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The Return of the Ruined Princeps
The dusty road was silent...other than the screaming. The four horsemen come to a halt. Three of them bear shields with biased white and black fields adorned with a single white lily breaking the dark field. Their sword arms rest at the ready. Their mounts shuffle with nervousness and a tense silence fills the air. The fourth man, dressed in black dismounts without a word. Richly tailored, he bears a gentleman's long coat dyed black as the pit of the abyss, it's mantle offers the only color of his ensemble. The left shoulder bears the heraldry of Erasti, the right, the white lily on a black field. Thud...scrape...thud...scrape. The man in black walks towards the gruff dwarf and his prey. The man is tall but hunched. His right arm cradled in a silken sling, held close to his body, gloved fingers limp. He drags his right leg and his highly polished boots are capped in a cold steel, his toe drags across the fettered cobblestone. ''Scrape, the sound of metal dragging on stone rings out. ''Despite his malformations the man is thickly built with rolling shoulders. His face piercing and stern. His receding hairline is slicked back and streaked with silver. His nose is large and hawkish giving his face the raptor-like look of nobility.His gloved left hand holds a walking cane. Made of dark metal, worked in silver. Atop the cane is a large amber orb, a series of white gems set inside in the pattern of his house. The dwarf pales as the man in black approaches. Marked and muddy from many days at sea then an overland trek, the dwarf stinks of travel and his cargo stinks more. Well armed and gripping a man-catcher, the dwarf swallows. Setting his polearm down the dwarf runs his filthy hands over his dark beard. Behind him, some distance away a series on linked wagons pulled by a team of mules. The bars and heavy chains attached to them are standard in his business. Stuttering the slaver spits, "They are mine! By laws and by rights. I only seek to return what is mine! The treaty of Dhol'khadizith allows this! You...your rulers signed it...it...it...it...is law! They...they are mine! Stamped and branded...see? My mark...I...I'm a businessman...how about I give you half?!? Gold is good, yes? I have trade bars...stamped. All is good yes? Gold is good..for you, yes? Half!" The stern man walk up to the dwarf, looking over the frightened gnomish slaves. Malnourished, wounded, beaten and broken, one starts to sob. No one turns downs Soparan Trade Bars, especially stamped ones. Tears flow, the gnomes are broken. The man brandishes his cane and the orb flares. With a deep sardonic voice he rumbles with heavy breath, "Consider us withdrawn …." His next word that is no word, lights the amber orb and with a flash and hiss the dwarf slaver is bereft of half of his head. "Half it is, then." The corpse falls with a thud, then orb that was his head hisses and steams.Princeps Arturo Andrazzi looks at the huddled slaves. "You are now free. Suffer none to bind you again. The road leads to Erasti." He walks with a thud then a scrape and remounts without assistance. One of the gnomes breaks from the group and speaks up, "but...but..we have nothing…" The Priceps wheels his horse, "No.” “You have everything." He and his escort break into a canter, heading toward the Grand City of Erasti leaving a gaggle of small bodies in his wake.